


Steam Pressure

by miceenscene



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Steampunk. The tale of how the crew of MSN came together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acting Captain

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll just say right now that I'm a horribly undisciplined author. I do have a plan for this story, I know what I want to happen, but updates will not be scheduled. My apologies.

            “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Douglas Richardson. We are making our approach into Fitton Air-dock and as you are well aware you are not supposed to be on this ship, so please if you would form an orderly queue and file into our hidden cargo hold, as shown to you by Bosun Shappey. Remain silent during the inspection and then you may disembark and continue on your journeys. Thank you for choosing MSN for all of your not exactly legal travelling needs.” Douglas released the button and leaned back in the worn leather chair.  He folded his hands and surveyed the empty bridge where he sat.  There were several other chairs set up at various stations about the small room, but they were empty.  He frowned and glanced out the window, watching Arthur scuttle about the deck, grabbing various items of cargo that were also not supposed to be aboard and generally preparing the ship for landing.

            “Douglas.” Carolyn’s voice came from the speaker set up between the bridge and her quarters directly below.  She didn’t sound happy, but that was how she always sounded.

            “Her majesty deigns to speak to a sailor as lowly as myself?” he replied, glancing over at the gramophone head to his left, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

            “You are _acting_ Captain, not Captain, and only till we find a replacement at Fitton. Must I remind you every time?”

            “You know, we could just make me captain.”

            “I’m not having the Captain of my ship be the man who ran his last airship into the Cliffs of Dover.”

            “Carolyn-”

            “No, no, no. Shut up and land at the dock, and do try to avoid any cliffs you might see.”

            “Duly noted.” He replied dryly, standing up and straightening his blue waistcoat.  Arthur opened the door and bounded into the bridge, brushing away a bit of sweat from his forehead and mussing his brown hair at the same time.

            “Passengers all stowed, Captain Douglas.” He saluted with a bit too much enthusiasm, smacking his hand against one of the wide windows in the front of the bridge. “Ow.”

            “Just acting captain, or so your mother informs me.”

            “Oh, well. Passengers all stowed, acting Captain Douglas.” Another salute, and this time his hand hit an hourglass, sending it rolling on the floor. “Oops! I’ve got it!” he rushed for the glass, kicking it and sending it spinning. 

            Douglas sighed and leaned down to check the steam pressure inside the balloon, and the engines below deck. Arthur finally caught the glass and returned it to its position, all of his hair had snuck out of his ponytail and he was out of breath.  “We’re going to find a replacement for Captain John in Fitton, right?” Arthur asked, sitting, or slumping rather, down at one of the stools near the dashboard. 

            “So I’m told. Altitude?”

            “Ah, 3000 meters and descending steadily, I think. The dial might be off again.”

            “Yes, well let’s give it the benefit of the doubt shall we? Speed?”

            “21 knots. With a westerly-ish wind.”

             Douglas glanced at one of the many charts on the port-side wall, and grinned. “We’ll be docking at Carl’s platform.”

            “Brilliant!”

            Douglas gripped the helm, spinning it easily towards starboard.  The ship groaned but obeyed, turning slightly as it descended from the air. 

            “Pressure?”

            “Steady.”

            “The new boiler seems to be settling in nicely.”

            “Yeah, though it’s not quite the same.” Arthur said, resting his chin on his hand.  Douglas raised an eyebrow, glancing at the young man.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, the old boiler always made an occasional fizz bang during the night. It was sort of comforting.”

            “Oh, yes. How it will be missed.” Douglas replied, turning the helm again.  Fitton Air dock emerged from the clouds; the tall stone building was surrounded by airships, like pigeons settling on a statue.  “On deck, Arthur.”

            Arthur quickly tripped out of the bridge, running to the port side and grabbing a coil of rope.  The ship gently pulled up next to one of the docks extending off the building, and he tossed the line out to one of the workers standing nearby. 

            “Thank you, Carl!” he shouted, as Carl tied the ship up to the dock.  The propellers slowed and stopped and the sounds of the busy airdock filled in.  Douglas came up with another line and tossed it to Carl, fully anchoring the ship.

            “Welcome back.” Carl said, pulling out a gangplank and walking aboard. He looked around and frowned.  “Where’s your captain?”

            “He was delayed in London, something about a mix up with a Geisha girl and a yellow horse.” Douglas explained.  Carl frowned and looked to Arthur, who merely shrugged. “So we’ve returned to Fitton to find a suitable replacement.”

            “Ah, well. Shall we get the inspection out of the way then? Know how Carolyn hates being delayed.” Carl said, placing his hands in his pockets.

            “Quite right.” Douglas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin purse, tossing it to Carl. “I believe the paperwork is all in order.”

            Carl grinned and tucked the purse away. “Appears to be, sir. But, you know, when a ship changes captain, that’s another form to fill out.”

            Douglas sighed, and tossed him another coin purse.

            “Welcome to Fitton, enjoy your stay.” Carl tucked away the second purse and left the ship.  Douglas watched him go then turned for the lower holds with Arthur tagging along.  Down one flight of stairs, Douglas handed him a lantern and started for the bow.

            “Won’t Mum be mad that we had to pay more this time?” he asked, when Douglas stopped in front of the wall that concealed the passengers. 

            “No, because we didn’t.”

            “But…we gave Carl two purses?” Arthur asked, scratching his head and lowering the lantern.

            “Up higher.” Arthur lifted it again, and Douglas flipped through the key ring at his waist. “Two purses but – ah, here’s the one – but the same amount of money.”  Douglas unlocked the room and held the lantern into the space.  The small group of people flinched, holding hands up to their faces. “Welcome to Fitton.  Please confer with Bosun Shappey to make sure your accounts are in order. And thank you for choosing MSN.”

             Douglas nodded to Arthur and quickly returned to the top deck, heading to the stern where Carolyn’s quarters were located.  He knocked twice and was welcomed with,

             “Come in if you must.” Douglas rolled his eyes but opened the door, revealing her quarters, which were part bedroom and part office.  The back wall was entirely windows, and a desk had been placed in front at which Carolyn now sat, scribbling away with a quill.  Her greying brown hair had been swept back into a high knot, and her face was frowning with concentration.  She glanced up to Douglas.

             “Inspection passed?”

             “With flying colors and money, and the passengers are on their way without being stopped by the government.” He said, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the desk.  Carolyn didn’t answer, but continued writing.

             “What are you staring at?” she asked, not looking up.

             “Just admiring the fact that you don’t look a day over forty.” Douglas quipped with a smile.  Carolyn sat up, eyes narrowed and an icy reply on her lips, as Arthur bounded into the room.

             “Passengers all gone.  And this message from Herc.” He held out a telegram the Carolyn read.

             “Splendid, thank you.” Carolyn put down her pen, and stood up.  She held out her jacket to Arthur, who helped her into it. “I’m going into town.  You two wait for Herc, he’ll be here by 7 to pick up the cargo, then you are free to do as you please till tomorrow morning.”

             “Hang on, I thought you said we would have the weekend when we arrived in Fitton.”

              Carolyn picked up her hat and placed it on her head. “Well, you thought wrong.  Herc has another shipment for us.  So be here tomorrow morning, eight o’clock. No excuses.” She held up a finger as Douglas attempted to speak again. “Stay out of trouble, Arthur.”

             “I will, Mum.” He promised, placing a kiss on her cheek.

             “No warning for me?” Douglas asked, as Carolyn began to bustle away. She turned to look at him.

             “Avoid the cliffs.” She said, with a slight smile and exiting the ship.


	2. An Interview and a Bargain

          “Are you Mrs. Carolyn Shappey?”

          Carolyn glanced up at the small ginger young man before her.  She frowned but shut the book she had been reading as she waited in the hotel restaurant.

          “Yes, and you are late. Sit.”

          The man looked surprised but quickly obeyed, dropping into the seat across the table from her.

          “I do apologize, I had some trouble finding this hotel. I’m new in town.” He explained, his hands fidgeting and trying to find a place to rest.  Eventually they settled in his lap. 

          “Tea?” she asked, surveying him like cat watching a canary.

          “Oh, no, thank you.” His hands fluttered about again.

           “What’s your name?”

           “Oh, sorry, it’s Crieff, Martin Crieff.” He swallowed and glanced around.  Carolyn raised an eyebrow and looked around herself.

           “Are you waiting for someone, Mr. Crieff?”

           “No, no, not at all. Just - nothing.” He looked down at the table, frowning as if someone was berating him.

            “Right. I assume you saw one of my notices?” Martin nodded quickly. “Are you licensed?”

            Martin frowned more deeply but replied honestly, “Well, ah, you see…No, I’m not, Ma’am.”

            “Have you ever flown any airship at all before?”

            “Yes, I graduated from the Academy.”

            Now it was Carolyn’s turn to frown. “Graduated, but not licensed?”

            “Yes, Ma’am.”

            “Carolyn.”

            “What?”

            “Do not call me Ma’am, I’m not that old yet.” She instructed.

            “Of course, ma-Carolyn.”

             “If you are not licensed, how do you expect to hired for any position in the shipping business?”

            “Well, I thought perhaps that because I had graduated, it might…help.” He slowed as he took in Carolyn’s skeptical expression.

             “I see then. Well then, ah, what was your name again?”

             “Martin.”

             “Martin. I’m afraid the Captain’s position is out of the question, I could offer you a position on the crew, but I’m sorry, I-”

             “I’ll work for half of what the last guy wanted.” He blurted.  For a moment he looked unsure but then he nodded and attempted a stern expression.  Carolyn smiled a little.

             “A third.”

             Martin’s mouth dropped open a bit, and he scrambled to come up with a counter.  But before he could speak Carolyn’s face paled as she spotted someone over his shoulder.  He attempted to turn and see, but she grabbed his shoulder and held him in place while keeping her face turned away.

             “A quarter.” She offered, in a hushed voice, her blue eyes continuing to dart over Martin’s shoulder.

             “You said a third.” Martin balked, feeling very bewildered about the whole situation. 

             “That was then, this is now.” She dared a look over his shoulder, and quickly turned away.

             “A third.” Martin insisted, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, but that may have been the table pushing against his gut in the strange position Carolyn held him in.  Carolyn frowned, but a strange light came into her eyes.

             “How little would you take for the Captain’s position?”

              “You said that was-”

              “I know what I said. How much?”

              “Anything.”

              “How about nothing?”

               “Nothing?”

               “Yes. Nothing. But you’d be Captain.” Her voice was becoming more hurried but still remained hushed.

              “Yes.” Martin agreed, a little too quickly.

               “Done.” She said, sitting up quickly and releasing Martin causing him to almost spring out of his seat from the sudden loss of pressure.  “The S.A.S Gertrude, tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock.” Carolyn stood up and smoothly exited the restaurant, leaving Martin wondering if he had won or lost the battle.  He turned to see whom she had been so desperate to hide from, but they were gone. 


End file.
